


Comfort

by AutisticWriter



Series: Autistic Headcanons [48]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: ADHD Fourth Doctor, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Doctor, Autistic Fourth Doctor, Family Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Forehead Kisses, Gift Fic, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Fourth Doctor, One Shot, Parent AU, Parenthood, Platonic Cuddling, Polyamory, Queerplatonic Relationships, Stim Toys, Stimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 15:24:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11151210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: In which the Doctor gets hurt and Susan tries her best to comfort him.





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pearlislove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearlislove/gifts).



> Written for Pearlislove, who gave me the following prompt:
> 
> I'd like to see 4th Doctor getting hurt and Susan helping to comfort him
> 
> I hope you like it! :)

Susan was torn from watching the telly when she heard Par let out a stream of swearwords. Hearing the bad words made her giggle, but then she recognised the pain in Par’s voice. There was obviously something wrong.

“You idiot, Harry!” Par yelled, and his voice was all shaky like something was hurting him.

“What’d I do?” Dad cried, and Susan heard the bathroom door creak open.

“See for yourself! You just shut my fingers in the door.”

Susan heard Dad wince from all the way downstairs, and she winced too. She knew exactly how much that hurt. She was already halfway up the stairs when Dad swore too. But she didn’t laugh this time, because Dad never swore (unlike Par, who usually said swearwords when he was annoyed or having a sensory overload or hurt). She went the rest of the way up the stairs and stood in the middle of the landing, watching Dad and Par interact.

“I’m sorry!”

They were both stood by the now open bathroom door. Dad had his hand on Par’s shoulder, and Par was holding one of his arms awkwardly, his other hand tightly gripping his wrist. He was shaking, bouncing up and down and up and down on the balls of his feet, and his face was tense like he wanted to scream or cry but he was forcing himself to stay calm. And then Susan saw his hand; Par’s fingers were red and puffy, and his knuckles looked like they were going to bruise. She grimaced but didn’t say anything; she wasn’t sure if there was anything she could say.

“In here, Doctor,” Dad said, and he put a hand on Par’s back and steered him into the bathroom.

Susan followed them, not knowing if they knew she was here. She watched Dad start to run the cold tap, and carefully guide Par’s hand until his sore fingers were under the stream of water. Par winced and started to stim violently with his free hand, his fingers flicking and tapping and clicking and his whole arm constantly moving, and Susan wondered if he was stimming to try and control the pain.

After all, Mum once told her that Par feels pain more intensely than the rest of them; apparently it’s something to do with Par’s sense of touch being really sensitive. Either way, he must have been either trying to control the pain, or trying to calm himself down to stop himself panicking and having a meltdown.

“Is that helping?” Dad asked.

Par shrugged his shoulders. “A bit.”

“Can I help?” Susan asked, and they both jumped.

“Ah, Susan, I didn’t see you there,” Dad said, turning his head.

Par didn’t say anything, but Susan saw his reflection give her a weak smile.

“But of course you can, sweetheart,” Dad said. “You can stay here and look after Par while I get an ice pack.”

“All right,” she said.

“See you in a minute, then,” Dad said, and he left the room.

Susan moved closer to Par, who was now clicking his fidget cube with his good hand. His face was clammy and a few strands of his curly hair were sticking to his face with sweat.

“How’re you feeling, Par?”

“Much better now, thanks, Susan,” Par said, and he smiled. It looked more like his normal smile, and Susan knew he was telling the truth.

“I’ve shut my fingers in a door before. It really hurts, doesn’t it?”

Par nodded, sighing. “It certainly does, Susan, it certainly does.”

“Would you like a cuddle?” Susan asked, hating seeing her Par looking sad and in pain.

Par nodded again and smiled. “I’d love a cuddle.”

So Susan wrapped her arms around Par and hugged him as tightly as she could, knowing Par liked tight hugs. Par was so tall she could only reach his waist, but Susan still leaned against him, resting her head on Par’s abdomen. She could hear both his hearts beating, a reminder that her Par was very different to Mum and Dad. She saw Par’s reflection smile, and he gently ruffled her hair.

Their cuddle ended when Dad came back into the room, holding an ice pack. Par pulled a face, but Susan knew he wasn’t really annoyed. Dad carefully dried Par’s sore hand, and then covered it with the ice pack. Par winced, but then he smiled.

“Thanks, Harry,” Par said, kissing Dad’s forehead (none of her parents ever kissed each other the way she thought parents did, but Mum said they don’t love each other ‘that way’ and forehead kisses are perfect for the three of them).

“Does it feel any better now?” Dad asked.

“Much better,” Par said. “Although I’m sure Susan’s hug had something to do with it.”

“Ah, the magic healing power of hugs. I wish we doctors understood how it works,” Dad said, and Susan giggled.

“Stop being silly,” she said.

“But we’re so good at it,” Par said, pulling a silly face.

After a quick group hug, Par and Dad headed back to do whatever they were doing in the TARDIS, and Susan went back downstairs, hoping she hadn’t missed anything important on her telly programme.


End file.
